Equestrian history, especially Polish, Eurasian and American horsemanship and its history - from Bronze Age to AD 1939. Historical equestrian art, my own artwork & reconstructions, and some traditional art media and digital artwork-related topics.
All my text and my own art etc - all rights reserved unless permitted by 'Dariusz caballeros' aka DarioTW

Sunday, March 13, 2016

La Belle Dame sans Merci

Salve,glorious Spring is around the corner, I hope, and soon we will be painting 'pisanki' aka Easter eggs while perhaps watching the films on Passion or the death and resurrection of Jesus - my favorite one is titled 'Passion of the Christ' directed by Mel Gibson.Ad rem, the Winter or the time of death, in Mother Nature, is coming to an end... so a little poetry and art of the Pre-Raphaelite movement - XIX century British artistic movement - to close, hopefully quickly, the season of cold and snow, to open into the season of love and ... well, some sorrow and longing for one :) .The poetry - John Keats, great hero of the Romantic English poetry, wrote this beautiful poem - la Belle Dame sans Merci - while 400 years earlier a French poet Alain Chartier wrote a poem under the same title, yet of a different story, also depicted by one of the Pre-Raphaelites (of the second wave), i.e., the famous Lord Leighton.Poem

O what can ail thee,
knight-at-arms, Alone and palely loitering?The sedge has
withered from the lake, And no birds sing.

O what can ail
thee, knight-at-arms, So haggard and so woe-begone?The
squirrel’s granary is full, And the harvest’s done.

I
see a lily on thy brow, With anguish moist and fever-dew,And
on thy cheeks a fading rose Fast withereth too.

I met a
lady in the meads, Full beautiful,a fairy’s child;Her hair
was long, her foot was light, And her eyes were wild.

I
made a garland for her head, And bracelets too, and fragrant
zone;She looked at me as she did love, And made sweet
moan

I set her on my pacing steed,And nothing else saw all
day long,For sidelong would she bend, and singA faery’s
song.

She found me roots of relish sweet,And honey wild,
and manna-dew,And sure in language strange she said—‘I
love thee true’.

She took me to her Elfin grot,And there
she wept and sighed full sore,And there I shut her wild, wild
eyesWith kisses four.

And there she lullèd me asleep,And
there I dreamed—Ah! woe betide!—The latest dream I ever
dreamtOn the cold hill side.

About Me

Czołem/Salve, fellow net traveler... I am Dariusz aka Dario and this is my meydân. Born in the year of the Fire Horse hence I never tire of admiring, drawing & painting or sculpting horses, or just researching the history of equus cabalus, especially in the mounted warrior context. My drawings and paintings - prints - are available for sale (I use MyPaint, Krita & GIMP), I also do commissioned illustration etc, so if you need to contact me regarding a purchase, commission, or any other matter, do email me: darajawausz[at]gmail [dot] com
Ciao - Amicus Plato, sed magis amica veritas